


Sound

by MissSlothy



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-13 02:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14740319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSlothy/pseuds/MissSlothy
Summary: Steve gets caught up in an explosion.  Danny has a tough decision to make.The original fic was inspired by two prompts on Tumblr - 300 words for each prompt.I've now turned it into a longer story.  Thanks to everyone who's already given this story kudos - I hope you enjoy the longer version too :)





	1. Chapter 1

“Clear.”  Steve nods at Tani and Danny.  They holster their guns.  Hands on hips he looks around the warehouse.  It’s suspiciously empty: not just physically empty but clean too. 

There’s no such thing as a _clean_ warehouse.

Sighing, he works through their options.  “Tani.  Call HPD.  Have them check every inch of this place.  Komami’s guys think they’re clever but they’ll have missed something. We’ve just gotta find it.”

Tani retraces their steps back to the entrance, pulling her cell out of her pocket.  Danny watches her go before turning back to Steve.  “It was worth a try, babe, ” he says, cheeks puffing out with frustration.  “The more pressure we put on, the more likely they are to screw  up.”

“Maybe.” Steve can’t stop a huff escaping.  They’ve spent weeks on this case.  Chasing his tail just annoys the hell out of him.

Studying Danny’s face, his heart falls even further.  Dark shadows under Danny’s eyes are testament to how hard they’ve been working.  All he wants to do now is sleep forever.  Preferably with Danny in his arms.

“Go call, Grover,” he says, nudging Danny in the right direction.  “Then go find us some coffee, huh?” 

Steve watches him go.  The fact that Danny doesn’t protest isn’t reassuring.  It’s just another sign of the exhaustion that’s dragging them down.  _We’re going to catch to these bastards,_ he promises silently. 

Dragging together the last remains of his own energy, he turns in the opposite direction, intending to check out the office area.

Preoccupied, worried about Danny, it takes him longer than normal to realise something’s wrong.  When he does he stops, head cocked, straining hard to listen.  Frowning, he turns, following the sound.

“Danny. Did you hear something?” he yells.

Then the walls explode right in front of him.

H50H50H50

Danny opens his eyes then slams them shut again.  The world’s turned upside down.  High-pitched whistling makes him slap his hands over his ears.

His stomach feels like a ship in a storm, climbing a wave then plummeting back down again.  Clamping his teeth together he swallows down the taste of bile.  Moving his legs, trying to get his feet underneath him, sets off another wave of nausea. 

Taking the hint from his body he tries again, more cautiously.  Rolling on his side he waits for a second before getting his arms under him.  Inch by inch he pushes himself up.

Opening his eyes reveals devastation.

Everything’s blurred, obscured by a thin veil of dust hanging in the air.  Coughing, he scrabbles to his feet, wobbling as he goes vertical.  Strong hands grabs his shoulders, turning him round.  “Stev—”

The world stands still.

Tani’s the one holding him, her eyes and mouth frozen in an identical horrified ‘o’.  Dust and rubble are coating her hair.  In one hand is her cell phone, the screen broken.  Through the whistling in his ears Danny can hear Grover yelling.  It takes him a second to realise his voice is coming out of Tani’s phone.

“Tani, you there?  Talk to me.  What’s happened?”

Slowly, Tani brings the phone to her ear.  Her eyes shift to the scene behind Danny.  Drawn by her gaze, he turns too.

“Steve…” she says into the phone, her voice shaking.

The world starts moving again.

Danny’s running, hurdling over rubble, charging towards the warehouse.  His pants leg catches on something.  Ripping it away he keeps heading for his target - the pile of metal and rubble that’s gradually being revealed through the dust cloud.

So many things are rushing through his head, a cacophony of noise.  But there’s one thought that keeps repeating:

He left Steve in there.

H50H50H50

The darkness is all pervading.  It’s total, with no chink of light.

Steve blinks against the grittiness in his eyes.  An overwhelming urge to rub them can’t be satisfied: both his hands are pinned underneath him.  Face down, his cheek’s pressed into the dirt.  Shuffling gets him nowhere, it feels like he’s surrounded on all sides.

_Breathe_ , he chides, as the first tendrils of panic take hold.  He’s alive.  He’s breathing.  It feels like he’s in one piece.  Mostly. 

There’s nothing to panic about.

Confusion still clouds his thoughts.  Exactly what happened, he’s not sure.  Komami’s image pops into his mind.  They’ve been tracking him, that much he can remember. 

Closing his eyes, he breathes carefully, noting which parts of his body ache.  Inside his lids he can see the image of Grover at HQ, standing next to the electronic table.  Hands sliding across the glass, he’s pointing something out on the big screen.

Squinting in the dark, Steve pushes his mind to remember.

Sharp pain shoots through his skull. 

Groaning, he shifts, trying to escape.  Something presses on his back, reminding him he’s trapped.  His brain connects with his heart, sending a signal to say ‘panic now’.  His heart answers, speeding up, racing ahead.  His breathing turns into hurried pants.

He’s trapped.

Self-preservation takes over, makes him shift in the small space, desperate to find a way out.  Small stones tear into the skin over his knuckles, sending needle-sharp pain into his hands.  His left shoulder cramps in reaction, making him twist to release the pain.  His body collides with whatever is above him.

The cycle starts all over again.

It takes every last ounce of his self-control to calm things down.  He almost derails himself when he realises he can’t hear himself panting, that all he’s got is a high pitched whine.  That’s normal, he says out loud, into the enveloping darkness.  That’s normal fallout from being in an explosion.

An _explosion_.

They’d been checking out a warehouse.  They’d received an anonymous tip-off that Kamemo was storing illegal weapons in it.  The place had been empty, he remembers.  Suspiciously empty.

They’d walked straight into a trap. 

 No.

_Danny._

Danny had been with him _._

H50H50H50

“Stop.  You gotta stop, Danny—”

Danny shrugs off Tani’s arm, keeps digging.  “Steve’s in here.”

“I _know_.”

“Then for fuck’s sake help me move this shit and let’s—”

He’s cut off as hands drag him backwards. Twisting, yelling, he gets loose.  Scrabbling across the dirt on his knees he starts digging through the rubble again, ignoring the pain as it cuts into his hands.

Suddenly he sees sky instead of the ruined building: he’s been flipped onto his back.  Grover’s face looms into focus above him.  “Listen to me, man,” Grover implores, his face twisted with worry.  “Just listen.  We’ve got to do this right…”

H50H50H50

Steve arches his shoulders backwards, against whatever’s pinning him down.  His neck twinges in warning but he keeps going, desperate to find leverage, anything that will get him out of here.

He sucks in a breath, gets a mouthful of dust.  Coughing, he yells: “Danny!  Can you hear me?” 

The only reply he gets is the whining sound in his ears.

“Danny!”

Everything’s coming back to him, slowly.    The explosion had pushed the walls inwards, towards him.  That suggested the explosive device had been in one of the offices.  So he’d been close to the explosive device.  Danny had been walking away from him.  Away from the explosion?  Maybe.  Maybe Danny’s alright.

Or maybe not.  He can’t see what’s around him.  But whatever’s above him feels like metal.  The metal in the building would be the steel girders holding it up.  If they’ve come down then the explosion would be huge.  As would be the blast zone.  Danny would have been picked up by the blast, thrown like a rag doll into the air.

He wouldn’t stand a chance.

His battered brain grabs onto the image, playing it in a continuous loop of agony.  No matter how he plays out the scenarios, it always ends up the same way.

Closing his eyes doesn’t stop it.  Opening his eyes only offers darkness too. 

Bile rises in his throat, the acid burning as he swallows it down.  His stomach rolls, threatening to empty itself.  Deliberately he rubs his knuckles against the ground, hissing at the pain.  It’s enough to distract him, just for a few moments.

Then the images in his brain start again.

A feeling of hollowness swallows him.  The darkness pulls him down.  Having an active imagination has kept him alive in the past: it’s allowed him to plan for the worst.  Now though…now it’s showing him an image of Danny unable to protect himself as the warehouse collapses.  He can feel Danny’s fear as the rubble rains down to crush him.

Grief rushes up to consume him.

_No._

Steve shoves the images away, punching them into a corner of his mind.  Slamming the door shut behind them he forces himself to open his eyes, to _see._

Grit in his eyes is making them water.  He can feel moisture sliding down his cheeks.  Rubbing his lips together is like scratching at sand paper.  But licking them with his tongue reveals something his panic had been concealing.  The air he’s breathing is cold and fresh.  It’s coming in from somewhere.

He files the knowledge away, hope starting to bubble in his chest.  Twitching each of his limbs in turn proves what he already knew – that he’s surrounded by metal and mason.  Entombed.

_Alive_ , he reminds himself, fiercely.  And Danny’s alive too.

It’s the only scenario he’s interested in.  Holding the thought close, he does another inventory of the rest of his body.  Nothing else has changed: apart from one thing.  Somehow, in his panicked struggle, he’s managed to move his right hand a few centimetres. 

It’s still trapped under his body.  But it’s right next to his pocket – and his cell phone.

H50H50H50

The Incident Unit truck is packed.  It’s standing room only, with more people outside crowded around the door.  Danny pushes his way in, sticking his elbows out.  Spotting a gap next to the Fire Chief he inserts himself in it, glaring at anyone who glares back.

The Fire Chief acknowledges him with a dip of his chin.  “Listen up,” he orders, raising his voice so the people outside can hear, “Commander McGarrett’s phone is on.  We’ve tracked the GPS signal and scanned the area.  It’s gonna be tricky,” he says, flashing Danny a look of sympathy.  “The steel girders are wedged against each other.  They’ve actually protected him.  But cutting him out will threaten their stability.”

“Can we get someone in there to check on his condition?”

The voice has come from the doorway.  It’s an EMS, someone that Danny recognises.  Grateful he nods at him before turning his attention back to the Chief.

“The scan suggests we can make a small tunnel to the Commander, enough for someone to crawl in and then back out.  If someone can get in there we can check on his condition the make a decision on how to extract him.”

In unison everyone in the truck pushes forward to check out the images the Chief is now bringing up on the computer screen.

Danny doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath until the room starts to waver around him. Gasping, he takes in a frantic breath.  But no one around him notices.  They’re too busy looking at the red dot on the picture.

_Steve._

The red dot is his body heat.  Hope stirs in his heart.  Then people around him start talking, shaking their heads.

“What?” he demands, raising his voice so they can probably hear him right across the island.  “You know where he is, right?  What’s the problem?”

The Chief’s expression is sympathetic.  “It’s a small space, Detective Williams.  One wrong move and the whole lot will come down.”

Danny scans the faces in the truck, trying to understand what they’re saying.  Now it’s not only the Chief that’s looking sympathetic. 

All of them tower over him.

“I’ll do it,” he blurts out, understanding the issue as he scans the images again.  They need someone small, compact, strong.  That’s him.

Everyone around him is silent.  But he can tell by their faces that they’re considering his offer.  Deep down inside he can feel the first stirrings of panic.  If he thinks about it the idea of crawling into that small space scares the hell out of him. 

The idea of losing Steve scares him more.

That’s why fifteen minutes later he’s striding towards the rubble, with the Chief in tow.  Emergency crews part in front of him.  At the edge of the cordon he can see Tani and Lou.

“Danny, you don’t have to do this,” Grover tells him as the Chief rigs him up with an ear piece and radio.  “They can find someone else.”

“He’s in there, Lou.”  Removing his gun and holster he hands them over to Tani.  “I’m gonna get him out.”

H50H50H50

Danny tells himself to keep moving.  Stretch out an arm, bend a leg.  Remove any debris.  Repeat. Keep going.

The micro-flashlite he’s got strapped into the shoulder of his jacket shoots a thin beam of white light through the darkness.  On the one hand it cuts through the darkness, lessening the panic slithering in his gut.  On the other hand it illuminates the small space he’s in, showing him how enclosed everything is.

The rules of mathematics suggest one should cancel out the other.  Instead they’re doubling his fear.

Steve’s down there though, he reminds himself.  Steve with his beautiful grin and blue eyes that light up when he sees Danny.  Steve with his abs, and his muscular shoulders and his ticklish ribs.  Steve who loves taking Grace and Charlie swimming, who adopts orphan dogs and lost SEALs.  Who tries to see the best in everybody, despite having experienced the worst mankind can be.  

The Steve who makes his heart swell with love, who’s given him back his reason for being.

He can do this for Steve.

The creaking rubble tests his resolution.  It’s like a live being, rumbling and groaning. His panic spikes, sweat breaks out on his skin.

“You okay there, Williams?”

The Chief’s voice cuts through the darkness.  “I’m good,” Danny replies, keeping his breathing even. 

His chin is almost scrapping along the ground.  One of the fire crew has loaned him their jacket, strapped it tight around his waist to limit the amount of space he takes up.  They offered him boots as well but he’d looked like a clown at the circus.  Buying a new pair of loafers it going to be at the top of his to-do list when he gets out of here.

Once _they_ get out of here.

The thin beam of light picks out a large piece of rubble in front of him.  Gritting his teeth, he struggles to get a grip on it.  Half of it is still in shadow, he’s having to feel out everything with his hands.  “Son-of-a- _bitch_.”

“How we doing?”

Danny bites back the first thing that comes back into his head.  Now would not be the time to upset the Chief.  “A stick of dynamite would be good about now.”

“Don’t force anything.” The Chief sounds concerned.  “If you need to, come back out.  We can still get to—"

“—I’m good,” Danny cuts in, grunting with effort as the rubble finally moves.  Flashing the light round, his heart sinks.  The way forward is even narrower. 

“Detective…”

“Still good,” he lies.  There’s no space to extend his leg at the side but if he takes all his weight on his shoulders and dig his elbows in he can rock his body forwards, dragging his body over the ground.

It works.  But not for long.

“ _Fuck_.”  His jacket is caught on something.  Wiggling his hips doesn’t dislodge it.  Neither does going forwards. Or backwards.

“You okay, Williams?”

He’s trapped.  He’s fucking trapped under this building and there’s no way out.  They’re gonna find his body along with Steve’s and he’ll never walk Grace down the aisle, or see Charlie graduate.  He can’t breathe, there’s no air in here and he’s gonna—

“Danny.  It’s Lou.”

Danny resists the urge to giggle hysterically.  There’s no way anyone would mistake Lou Grover’s voice.  Why the hell is he identifying himself?

“Danny?”

“I’m stuck.”  Danny pants the words out, his hands fisting in the dirt.  “I can’t move.  I can’t move and—”

“Okay.  It’s gonna be, okay.  I need you to listen to my voice.  Can you do that for me, Danny?”

Danny nods.  After Steve, Lou’s the person he trusts the most.

“Good,” Lou continues, despite the fact they can’t see each other.  “Listen to my breathing, okay?  In and out, man.  In and out.”

Danny strains to hear him over the thundering sound of his heartbeat.  Slowly though he synchs his breathing with Grover’s.  Oxygen starts reaching his brain again.

“Thanks, Lou,” he whispers several minutes later, his forehead resting on the earth.  “I got it.”  Panic’s still making his stomach roil, making him shiver despite the heat.  But it’s not got a death grip around his throat.

“Great.”  Lou huffs overs the microphone, a long, shaky sound.  “Tell me what’s happening.  You said you were stuck?”

Danny frowns at the question.  He hadn’t realised he’d shared that out loud.  “Gimme a second.” 

“As long as you need, brother.”

Despite the situation, Danny huffs with amusement.  Grover’s slipping into dad mode, he can hear it in his voice.  Holding onto it, using it to shield him from the panic, Danny works out his next move.  Shimmying his hips, he works at making enough space to slide his hand down past his hip, towards where the jacket is caught.  Twisting his arm backwards hurts like hell.  It takes a couple of attempts before he can grasp the heavy fabric and wrench it free.

“Got it.  I’m free.”  Grover’s answering whoop of joy makes him chuckle.  “Thanks, Lou.”

“Anytime.”  The line goes quiet for a moment.  “Tell Steve we’re all out here waiting for him.”

Danny eyes the small gap in the rubble in front of him, the way it snakes into the darkness.  He takes a deep breath.  “I will.”

He takes another deep breath.  He puffs it out.  Sticking his elbows in he drags himself forward.  When the darkness threatens to swallow him again he starts talking.  Describing what he can see (or can’t see) gives him something to focus on.  This time it’s the Chief who responds.  Occasionally he asks questions of his own.  It’s enough to keep Danny grounded. 

“Hang in there.”  The Chief’s voice is low, reassuring.  “You’re almost there.”

Almost seems like forever.  Time slows down.  It feels like he’s moving through treacle.  Then suddenly there’s a wall of metal in front of him.  It’s balanced on a pile of rubble.  There’s no way Steve could have survived that.  No way.

“Talk to me, Detective.”

The use of his rank makes him focus.  Blinking against the grit in his eyes Danny crawls the last few feet.  Steve’s on the other side of this, he reminds himself.

A small camera has been velcroed to his wrist.  Clicking it on, he videos what he can see. “Okay.  I think we can work with that.”  The Chief sounds distracted, like he’s talking to more than one person at once.  “According to the scan Commander McGarrett’s a few feet away from you.  We’re gonna see if you can move some of that rubble.”

A very small part of Danny warns him that’s a fucking bad idea.  The other part wants to rip the rubble away.  Instead he listens to the Chief’s instructions in his earpiece and carefully pulls rocks away.

It’s like playing a giant game of Jenga.

As the final piece comes away he finally sees what he’s been waiting for.

“ _Steve_.”

Reaching out carefully he puts his hand through the gap in the wall.  The flashlight illuminates the space on the other side.  He sucks in a sharp breath. Steel girders are wedged just centimetres from Steve’s back. Face down, there’s no way for him to move out of there.  Not without some heavy lifting gear.

“Babe,” he whispers, not caring who’s on the other end watching the video feed.  “Can you hear me?”

Steve’s eyes are closed.  At first he doesn’t respond.  Heart in his throat, Danny pulls a glove off then  stretches down under his jaw to check his pulse.  The flashlight swings round to light up Steve’s face. 

Steve’s eyes spring open.  At first they show no comprehension.  Then suddenly they fill with fear. 

“Hey.  Hey.”  Danny leans in further to stroke his face.  It’s the only other part of him he can reach.  “You’re okay, babe.  You’re gonna be okay.  We’re gonna get you out of here.”

Steve shakes his head, his eyes widening even further. 

“It’s possible he can’t hear you,” the Chief cuts in. “The blast may have affected his hearing.”

Danny nods.  He gets that: his own ears are still ringing.  But the fear on Steve’ face is killing him.  He’d do anything to wipe that away. 

“I know this is hard Detective but I need you to show us the rest of the space the Commander is in.  Without that—”

“I know.”  Danny swallows hard, tells himself to concentrate.  Moving the light around slowly, he videos what he can see.  Under his other hand, Steve’s cheek feels cold.

“That’s not unusual,” the Chief confirms, when he tells him.  “It’s shock.  We’ll get a paramedic in there as soon as you come out.”

Steve’s eyes are fixed on him.  Occasionally his lips move.  They’re screwed up in pain: mental or physical, Danny’s not sure.  Whichever it is, is doesn’t matter.  He can’t leave him here, like that.

“I’m not coming back out.”

There’s silence.  It seems to drag on forever.  Danny focuses on how Steve’s skin feels under his fingers.  His whiskers are growing in.

“Danny.” Grover sounds like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders.  “They can’t start the rescue with you in there.  You gotta come out.”

“ _Lou._ ”

“I know, man. If that was Renee…” Lou’s voice falters, dips away.  “You’ve gotta let them do their job.  It’s the only way he gets out of this.  You understand me?”

Danny drops his head to the ground, turns his arm so the video is focused on the dark.  Tears press against his closed lids.  He lets them fall.  Vaguely he’s aware of Grover calling him.  Blinking, he looks up to check on Steve and his heart stops.

There are wet tracks on Steve’s face too.

Using his thumb, he wipes them away gently.  Steve blinks back at him, his eyes grief-ridden. 

“ _Lou…_ ”

“I can see him, Danny.  The crews up here, they’re getting ready.  You’ve done your job.  Let them do theirs.”

Swallowing hard, he considers his options.  If he dies in here too that won’t help Steve. 

During his career he’s made some decisions where he’s doubted himself.  But not as much as he doubts himself now.  His hand is shaking as he reaches inside his jacket to retrieve the backup flashlight he was given.  Switching it on he tucks it next to Steve.  It’s not much of a light but it’s something.  And hopefully he won’t need it for long.

Planting a kiss on his own fingers, he presses them to Steve’s lips.  “I love you, babe,” he says, his voice breaking.  “We’ll be waiting outside for you, okay?”

Closing his eyes, he starts pushing himself backwards down the tunnel.  The dark can’t touch him now.  The knowledge that he’s just left Steve in there for the second time is worse than any horror his mind can conjure up.

Time passes in a blur.  Suddenly he stumbling out from the rubble, being steadied by one of the emergency crew. He’s vaguely aware of a paramedic getting ready to go down the tunnel.  Then Grover’s slipping an arm around his shoulder.  Tani’s right behind them, glaring at anyone who gets in their way. 

Danny holds on for as long as he can.  When his legs finally give way and he’s retching his guts up on the sidewalk, it’s only Grover’s strong arm that stops him face planting into the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

H50H50H50

“How you doing?”

Danny shuffles in the hospital chair.  Every bump and bruise he’s collected makes itself known.  When Grover frowns he puts up a hand to stop the question he knows is coming.  “I’m fine.”

“The doc said he can give you some pain relief.  Something to—”

“I’m _fine_.” Grover flinches.  Danny wishes he could take the words back.  They’re all on edge.  “Sorry,” he sighs, tapping the empty seat next to him.  “I know you’re only trying to help.”

Grover sits down without commenting.  It’s one of the things that Danny loves about the man.  “So how’s he doing?” he asks instead, nodding at the bed in front of him.  The bed that Steve’s asleep in.

Danny reaches out, cups his hand over Steve’s.  Gently he rubs his thumb over his knuckles.  His skin’s warm again.  “You saw him when they bought him out. He was confused.  The more questions they asked in the ER the more agitated he got.” He shakes his head, trying to dispel the memory.  “I thought they were going to call Security.”

Grover snorts.  “Like you’d let them.” 

“Yeah.” It had been a toss up which one of them the ER staff were more scared by.  “I should go apologise, huh?”

Grover leans forward in his chair.  His huge shoulder bumps against Danny’s.  “Nah.  They understand.  So,” he says, in an unsubtle attempt to redirect the conversation, “they think Steve’s got a concussion?”

“Hmm.  Grade III concussion.  Multiple contusions,” Danny lists, his gaze fixed on Steve’s face. The side that’d been pinned to the ground is badly grazed, from his cheek bone to his jaw.  There’s a raw patch of skin on the top of his ear. “No fractures though.  They wanna keep him in for observation for at least twenty-four hours.”

Grover snorts again.  “He’s not gonna like that.”

“He’s gonna have to like it.”

Grover’s eyebrows shoot skywards.  Danny sucks in a shaky breath.  All the anger and frustration he’s feeling has just come out in that short sentence.  It’s like he’s teetering on the edge of an abyss.

“Maybe you should take a break, get a coffee—”

“I’m not leaving him, Lou.” _Not again._

Lou studies him, his eyebrows drawing together in a deep frown.  “Fine,” he announces, wincing as he unfolds his body from the tiny chair.  “ _I’ll_ get the coffees.”

Danny waits for the door to close behind him before he gets up as well.  Pausing just long enough to brush his lips across Steve’s brow he heads for the en-suite bathroom. 

When the door clicks shut behind him, he slumps against the wall.  Anger’s bubbling inside.  Clenching and unclenching his hands he starts pacing.  It’s only three steps from wall-to-wall.  It’s not large enough to contain what he’s feeling.  In his mind’s eye he keeps replaying the last six hours (and had it really only been that long?).  The terror of going into the tunnel is just an uncomfortable memory.  What’s replaying in a continuous loop is the fear in Steve’s eyes.

His fist connects with the wall.

H50H50H50H50

The weather in Honolulu is humid.  The air-conditioning in his bedroom is struggling.  Steve knows because he can feel it vibrating down the wall, as he touches his fingers to the woodwork.  Staring out of the window, at the way the waves glitter in the moonlight, he closes his eyes, trying to actually _hear_ the air-conditioning unit.

It’s been three days since the explosion.  It’s his first day back at home.  Bruised and battered he might be, but he’s escaped without any broken bones.  A splitting headache is a side-effect of the concussion he’s still suffering from.  The other is that his hearing’s temporarily screwed.

Rubbing at his temple he pulls the blinds closed and heads for his bed.  Everything goes sideways for a second as he turns too quickly.  Dizziness is another side-effect, he reminds himself.  Breathing through his nose help calms the accompanying nausea.  He starts moving again, with all the athletic prowess of a ninety-year old man.

Movement out of the corner of his eye makes him turn.  Slowly this time.  Danny’s standing in the bedroom doorway looking worried.  It’s been his expression for three days.  Steve forces himself to smile, not to wince at how it’s irritating the raw skin on his face. 

Carefully he gets on the bed.  As Danny slides in next to him he pulls up the covers, not giving Danny a chance to move away.

Danny’s doing everything in slow motion, like he’s worried sudden movement will break something.  Will break _him_.  It’s driving Steve mad.  Trapping Danny’s hand, he intertwines their fingers.  Danny had been at the edge of the explosion.  But the bruising on his face, the scrapes on his hands from pulling at the rubble, they make Steve’s stomach roil.

Danny went in _there_ for him.  In the darkness.  Right now, with everything still so fresh in his mind, he has no words to thank him for that.

Steve takes Danny’s hands, plants gentle kisses on them.  Warmth pools in his eyes.

Danny gently cups his chin, so their eyes meet.  “Can you hear me?” he asks, mouthing the words slowly.  Steve nods.  Each day is better than the one before.

Danny’s face lights up at the news.  Steve blinks furiously, pulling Danny into his arms before he notices.  He’s been promising himself this for weeks, he thinks: the two of them curled up together in bed. 

Closing his eyes, he forces his brain to banish the memory of the warehouse, of lying in the dark thinking he’d lost all of this.  Instead he focuses on Danny.  _His_ Danny. 

This is what he survived for.

H50H50H50H50

Steve jerks awake.

The nightmare still lingers, too vivid for him to push it away.

_His chest feels like it’s being crushed by the weight of the steel girders.  Inch by inch they’re squeezing the life out of him.  Danny’s there beside him, under the rubble.  He can feel Danny’s hand on his face, the way his fingers are catching on his stubble.  Desperate, he tries to reach for his phone again.  Switching it on should have brought help.  He tries to tell Danny help is on its way but his brain and mouth aren’t working right.  It feels like someone’s smashed in the back of his head. Tears are rolling down Danny’s cheeks, leaving pink trails through the dust on his face. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen.  Danny’s safe, he’s_ gotta _be.  Charlie and Grace, they_ need _him.  He opens his mouth to shout, to get someone,_ anyone _to help them…_

“Babe?”

Danny’s voice sounds muffled to Steve’s damaged hearing.  Slowly he turns his head.  Danny’s watching him from the other side of the bed.  Sitting up against the headboard, his pillows are stacked up behind his back.

Steve frowns.  “You okay?”  He can’t hear Danny’s answering huff of frustration but he can imagine it just fine.  And Danny’s never been good at hiding his feelings.  It’s what 90% of his arguments are about.  He studies Danny’s face again in the half-light and his heart sinks.  “Did I wake you?”

Danny shakes his head.

“Liar.”  Carefully Steve pushes himself upright.  Bruising can hurt as much as broken bones sometimes.  “Talk to me.”

Danny crosses his arms.  His lips are pressed together in a stubborn line.  His gaze wanders to the bedside table, where his cell phone is.

Steve sighs, getting it.  “I can hear you,” he insists.  It’s kind of true.  They’ve been using their phones to tap out messages when communication has been difficult.  But there’s no way he’s going to let Danny use it as an excuse to not talk. 

He crosses his own arms and waits.

There’s a pause. A long one.  Finally Danny shifts. Wetting his lips he looks around the room before meeting Steve’s gaze again.  His eyes are hooded in the half-light.  “What was your nightmare about?”

Steve sags as a wave of exhaustion suddenly hits him.  He’s too tired for playing games.  And the reality is he doesn’t want to answer, not that question anyway.  Not _now_.  But it looks like they’re gonna talk about it anyway.  He can see it written across Danny’s face.  Swallowing hard, he raises his chin, returning the challenge.  “Why are you awake?”

Danny doesn’t reply.  Steve thinks that maybe he hasn’t spoken loud enough.  He’s about to repeat the question when Danny speaks.

“What was it like? Before we found you?”

Danny’s question sucks the air from his lungs.  Explaining that to someone who suffers from claustrophobia seems like a perverse form of torture.  While part of him understands Danny wouldn’t ask unless he really needs to know, there’s another part – a much larger part – that can’t inflict that on Danny.  Loving someone means having the courage to do what’s right for them, even if they don’t always agree.

Danny definitely doesn’t agree.

They glare at each other in the half-light.  Steve finally relents.  “You’re not going to let this drop, are you?,” he sighs, his heart feeling heavy at the sadness in Danny’s eyes.  Straightening his shoulders he tells himself it’s like just delivering another situation report.  “It was dark,” he continues before he can change his mind.  “Dark.  Enclosed.  Cold.” Looking up at the ceiling he confesses what’s been bothering him, ever since he was lifted back out into the sunlight.  “I panicked.  I _panicked_ , Danny.”

“ _Babe_.”

He squeezes the hand Danny offers, pulling it close.  “I wasn’t worried about me,” he continues, the need to explain overwhelming now he’s started.  “I was worried about you.  I didn’t know where you were.  I called and—”

“Steve—”

“I shouted and no one…no one came…” Faltering, he tries to push away the too vivid memory of how desperate he’d felt.  Looking over at the other side of the bed, his feeling of desperation grows.  Danny’s eyes are shiny with emotion. The image stabs at his heart.  “This is stupid,” he growls, throwing the bed covers back.  “We’re _not_ doing this.”  Planting his feet on the floor, he stands up.

The room wavers traitorously around him.  “ _Fuck._ ”

Slumping back on the bed, he’s grateful when Danny’s hands catch him, shoring him up. Silence falls between them and Steve knows it not just his ears playing tricks on him.  The atmosphere is so thick between them he could cut it with a knife.

Behind him, the mattress dips as Danny shifts again.  Steve doesn’t turn round to check on him.  Somehow it’s easier to talk this way, even if he can’t _see_ what Danny’s saying. 

“I left you there.”

Steve has to concentrate to hear Danny’s voice, it’s so low.  Frowning, he runs the words through his head.  “ _What_?”

“I left you in there.  I went back in and then…I left you again.”

Steve twists around, ignoring the way the room sways.  The guilt in Danny’s voice overrides everything.   It’s wrong, _so_ wrong.  “You came and got me.  Lou told me what happened.  You came and _found_ me.  If you hadn’t gone in there—”

Danny shakes his head.  Bottom lip caught between his teeth, he’s staring at the bed covers.  “I was right next to you.  I _touched_ you.  I shouldn’t listened to…I should have stayed.”

Steve shakes his head.  It’s a move he instantly regrets.  Rubbing at his temple, he struggles to get his thoughts straight.  Concussions are a bitch.  “Hold it,” he says slowly, running through the images in his head. “That’s what my nightmare was.  _You_.   I could feel your hand on my face.  I thought you were trapped down there with me. I thought we were both going to…” He closes his eyes for a second, unable to say the word.  “Are you saying that actually happened?”  .

Danny frowns at him.  As his eyes travel slowly over Steve’s face his expression turns distant, lost in a memory of his own.  “Yeah. It happened.  But not the way you’re remembering, babe.” 

Steve scrunches up his face as he takes in the new information.  It’s making his head hurt.

Danny sighs heavily and some of the tension in his body seems to go with it. Pulling Steve towards him, he tugs him over until they’re tucked side by side on the bed.  “You’re an idiot,” he says, his words wrapped in fond warmth.  “An idiot with a grade III concussion.  It’s gonna be a while before that brain cell of yours starts working properly again.  Stop thinking so hard, okay?”

Steve drapes his arm over Danny’s chest.  He’s solid, warm and hairy.  He’s an anchor in the storm.  Right now he never wants to let him go. _“I’m_ an idiot?” he jokes weakly, his lips just inches from Danny’s ear.  Letting out a shaky sigh he closes his eyes.  “You saved my life,” he whispers softly.  “I can’t… _Danny_. If you hadn’t gone in there I wouldn’t have made it—"

Danny stops him with a kiss.  “Yeah. You’re right,” he says equally softly, staring into Steve’s eyes as he opens them again.  “That _was_ an idiotic move.”

“Bastard.” Danny’s answering rumble of laughter vibrates through his arm.  Leaning in, Steve grabs a kiss of his own.  His chest aches at the love in Danny’s eyes.  Lost for words he steals another kiss, a deeper one that makes them both groan.  Eventually he pulls away, shuffling across the bed so he and Danny are touching from top to toe. 

He’s not going to get much sleep tonight.  Neither of them will.  What they’ve both been through was extremely traumatic.  One quick conversation isn’t going to solve that.  They’re going to be having this discussion again. _Soon_ , Steve decides, noting the shadows under Danny’s eyes. He’s an expert in that type of guilt and anger, of leaving someone behind. There’s no way he’s going to let Danny take that on his shoulders. No way at all.

 This one’s hit them both hard.  But they made it.  Despite the odds, _both_ of them made it.  _That’s_ the thought he’s going to hold on to.

Closing his eyes, Steve splays his hand across Danny’s chest.  He still can’t quite hear him breathing but he can feel the way his ribs expand and contract with each breath.

It’s the best ‘sound’ he’s ever heard.


End file.
